#emotional support karen

[moeblob]

Huevember 22

Brent, the most expressive bard to ever bard.

[karebear923]

It’s such a wonderful thing that technology gives us the power to connect with people from around the world! ❤️

From media we can enjoy to people we can talk to and form connections with, it’s so cool that we can expand our reach to places we might never even see in person!

[heavencasteel420]

Jonathan’s still taking pictures in my flour-baby Jonathan/Chrissy story, but it’s almost all for the newspaper and yearbook and (due to his recent amicable but devastating breakup with Nancy/hospital trauma/everything else) his heart is NOT in it. Which is probably less disruptive to his academic career but kind of worse mental-health-wise than his canon s4 situation.

[wheelercore]

Bringing back this post because I was thinking about "normal is just a raging psychopath", Henry describing conformity as a distraction from reality, and how the wheelers are the shows Normal Main Family (tm) that has yet to have done anything despite all the weird subtext *cough cough* references to the creel home before the creels moved in *cough cough*. Also thinking about how since Mike and Nancy began to find their own way and develop individuality, Karen, Holly, and Ted became the new Unit as of S3, with Nancy throwing out her little toy rabbit in the end of s4 while we see Holly with her new lite brite toy in the wheeler den constantly in the same season (and also sporting the pink-white color scheme + rose (?) design on her shirts). Anyways invest in rosegate right now for bountiful rewards in s5 (wheeler sweep!!!!).

Not to be overdramatic but the wheeler family being implied indirectly to be a "play"/performance" or a "lie" keeps me up at night

Like what did they mean by this shot

[threadbearsweater]

one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It��s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

[vanicrist]

It fucking pisses me off that people keep trying to paint Eddie as abusive, even though he’s proven over and over again that, no matter how angry he gets, he would never actually hurt anyone. Even at the peak of his grief — completely furious — he still held back his emotions. And still, people label him as abusive, while other characters have acted out and didn’t get nearly the same backlash.

No one called Bobby abusive when he shoved Buck.

No one called Buck abusive when he sprained Eddie's ankle.

So why is it different when Eddie puts a hand on his shoulder and points at him? Why are those considered less intense than a hand on the shoulder and a finger?

And no — even though he was grieving, I don’t think Eddie was right to take it out on Buck like that. He doesn’t think so either. That’s why later he says, “I heard some dick (he) was pissing you off.” He knows he crossed a line with Buck.

In my opinion, the problem at that moment was that Eddie needed Buck — he needed them to share their grief, to support each other. But Buck was so focused on trying to “fix things” that he didn’t realize grief isn’t something you fix — it’s something you feel. And that frustrated Eddie because all he really wanted was to be with his partner. (It honestly reminded me of when the same thing happened with Hen and Karen.)

Every single fight they had has come down to a lack of communication, a lack of expressing their feelings — and the explosion that follows.

Were Eddie actions okay? In my opinion, no. But it doesn't mean he's abusive. He’s grieving. Just like Buck. Just like everyone else. People grieve in different ways.

Honestly, if you consider him abusive while thinking other characters’ actions were justifiable, then I have news for you — it’s kinda clear why you think that.

And I can’t deal with people using such a serious issue just because of a ship war.

[hqwkeyes]

Falling for the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k+ Warnings: swearing, uhh fluff, slight angst?, matt is a flirt, i edited this while fighting 6g melatonin Summary: Matt Murdock is a known flirt, and a successful one, at that. You've seen him work his magic on women dozens of times. But one night, he attempts to use that Murdock charm on you. He might've fallen first, but you just might fall harder... maybe.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

Matt Murdock is many things: a great lawyer, a great friend, but most of all, he's a flirt. A merciless flirt, at that. A charmer and a tease. He has a way of making people, specifically women, feel special. It comes naturally to him, much to Foggy's dismay in his pre-Marci days.

You've been working at Nelson, Murdock, and Page for a while now, and you just sort of clicked with the group early on. There have been several occasions when you were all out at Josie's and Matt would work his magic on a woman. You would all watch as he'd flirt with them, charm them, and often times leave with them. It was a running joke in the group, at this point, that Matt was sort of a...philanderer, if you will. He didn't lead these women on, though. Matt was still pretty much a gentleman.

Although he keeps to himself more than the others, you've always been pretty close friends with Matt. He looks out for you the same way he does for Karen and Foggy, and you trust him—like really trust him. Was there a vibe you got from him sometimes? Sure, but you were also well aware that Matt could probably charm a brick wall if he wanted to, and you generally try not to fall for antics like that.

It's been a long week, and this case you were all working had dragged on for weeks in court. You all had done your best work for your client, but you weren't sure how the verdict would pan out. In the end, you guys won the case, and now it was time to celebrate.

Josie's is fairly busy. Foggy brought Marci tonight, and you all get yourselves a drink before claiming the pool table, which is thankfully free. The five of you toast to the big win in court before cutting loose a bit and playing a few games.

You're sitting at a table nearby with Karen, chatting a bit while Foggy plays against Marci—which is incredibly entertaining. Matt is by Foggy's side for emotional support, which he definitely needs. When both your drinks are empty, Karen gets up to get the two of you another round. After a few minutes, you peek over at the bar, wondering what's taking your friend so long. You're only a little surprised to find her talking it up with a guy. She's the friendly sort, but this seems like a bit more than just friendly. He's handsome and very much her type. Another minute later, Karen pops back over with your drink, and asks if you would mind if she stepped away to talk to Evan. You give her a suggestive grin and shoo her away before calling out to your friends that you're playing the winner in the next game.

In a shocking twist, Foggy beat Marci in the last game. Unfortunately for you, that just meant that she was on his side, cheering him on and distracting him from the game. Matt is sitting at the table you and Karen had been occupying, and you call him over.

"Come on, Matt, I need someone to root for me too," you tell him, and he laughs as he joins you by the pool table.

The two of you chat as you play, but after the next few shots, you lose Foggy to Marci's attention. He's practically drooling over her, and you would think it's adorable if it wasn't his turn.

"Earth to Foggy," you call out, but it's no use. You'll have to wait for him to turn his attention back to the game.

"Can you believe this?" You ask Matt, shaking your head in disbelief, and he laughs at your mild distress.

You lean against the table, grabbing your drink you'd left on the edge of it.

"You know, you really pulled through for us on this case," Matt says suddenly as he leans against the table beside you.

"Thanks, Matt. It was nothing though."

"No, really, I don't think we could've pulled it off if not for those documents you found."

"I'm just happy to help," you tell him.

"And we're very happy to have you," he says with a smile.

Matt holds out his glass, and you clink yours against it before taking a sip. You glance over to where Karen is to check on her, and she seems to be having a great time. Her eyes meet yours and she gives you a big smile.

"This is nice," Matt says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Hm?"

"We haven't spent much time together like this lately."

"Well, we've been so busy with the case, it's been hard to find time outside of work. And we all know you're always busy," you say, nudging him with your elbow.

"That's true," he says with a chuckle. "So what have you been up to outside of work?"

"Oh." You weren't expecting that.

"Um, well I've been watching this show lately." You explain the plot of the show before telling him about this new hobby you have. He listens attentively with a small smile. He shows genuine interest in what you're saying, asking questions here and there. After a few minutes, you realize that you've been babbling on.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. I've been rambling."

"Don't apologize," he says, leaning a bit closer. "I like listening to your voice." You recognize his tone. It's that seemingly innocent one he has when he's trying to charm someone. Something bubbles in your chest, and for a moment, you understand why so many women fall for his flirtations.

"I bet you tell all the girls that," you say with a laugh before taking another sip your drink.

"Hey, I mean it," he says, feigning hurt before finishing off his drink.

"Sure you do," you say, voice laced with amusement.

"I do, really. I could listen to you talk all day."

"You do listen to me talk all day," you joke, earning a chuckle from him, though his pride is a bit wounded.

Trying to keep his composure, he casually snatches your drink from your hand and takes a sip.

"Do you want me to get you another drink?" You ask with a laugh.

"I thought maybe we could share." His reply is quick, smooth, and it comes with that signature smirk again.

You roll your eyes. You know Matt and how he is. This case was tough and he's probably looking to blow off some steam, which is fine, but you're not sure why he's looking to you. Being friends with your bosses/coworkers can be difficult enough. Sleeping with Matt would likely complicate both of those relationships. You wouldn't want to risk it all over a one night stand, although, once again, you can see how he manages to captivate all these women.

You play it casual. "Sure, we can share if you want."

At that, you can see the twinge of frustration in Matt's expression. His brows draw up in what looks something like confusion.

"I heard Karen say she was talking to a guy at the bar?" He asks after a moment.

"Oh yeah, she said his name is Evan."

"Nice, nice."

A moment passes. You take your drink back for another sip as your eyes dance over the small crowd to check on Karen again, who still looks like she's having a great time.

"So, are you seeing anyone new?" And you almost spit that sip straight onto the floor. Josie would probably make you clean it yourself, or it would stay there until the sticky puddle dried.

You clear your throat from nearly choking. "No, I'm not." Matt's grin returns. He fumbles with his fingers.

"Oh, no?"

"Nope. You?"

"No, not lately." he says, taking your drink back again and draining half of what's left. He lets out a sigh after. "There's someone I've been interested in for a while, and I just can't quite get over my feelings," he says.

You freeze, your heart kicking up a fuss. Matt smiles at the floor. You try to maintain your composure.

"Oh, really?" you say, trying not to sound too interested. "Who's the lucky lady? Do we all know her?"

"Yeah, you do actually." He finishes off your drink. "Can I get you another?" He asks, holding up your glass.

"Umm." You glance at your watch. It's a Friday, but you don't want to go home so late that you have to call a car.

"Just one more? To celebrate our win." He plays it cool, but there's a slight edge to his voice, almost pleading.

"By one more, do you mean one of my own or one to share?" He laughs at that.

"What's wrong with sharing," he jests with a grin, then heads to the bar before you can reply.

He returns a couple minutes later with a drink for each of you, but his smile deflates when he finds that Foggy's attention has returned to the game you were playing.

"Thanks, Matt," you say passively as you take your drink and set it on the edge of the table before lining up your next shot.

You end up pocketing two balls in one go, letting out an excited shout.

"What's happening?" Matt asks.

"She just pocketed two balls," Foggy says, exasperated.

"My last two. And now I can go for the winning shot," you tell him. He smiles.

"Nice," Matt says, trying not to seem dejected.

"The odds of you making that shot are slim to none," Foggy says. He's right. Based on the placement of his remaining balls, it's unlikely that you'll make the winning shot in this turn, but you get competitive when people doubt you.

"Wanna bet?" you say.

"On you not making the shot? Hell yeah."

"How much if I do?"

"Twenty bucks."

"You don't sound too confident," you say, goading him.

"Fine, fifty." Marci lightly smacks his arm. Honestly, you shouldn't have pushed it with how slim your chances are, but you're feeling a little lucky tonight.

"Deal."

You call your pocket before taking a moment to line up your shot. You inhale deeply, hold it a second, exhale. Shoot. The 8 ball knocks against one of Foggy's, then against the edge of the table before slowly rolling toward the pocket you called. And it's in.

"Holy shit!" Foggy yells. You're cheering for yourself and Marci joins in the excitement.

Foggy comes around to your side of the table to give you your fifty dollars. "You definitely earned it," he says with a laugh. "Wanna go again?"

"I'm good," you tell him. "That was more than enough excitement for me."

You walk over to Matt, who is standing near the table you had shared with Karen earlier.

"I take it you won?"

"I did," you say, your voice oozing with pride.

He chuckles. "Of course you did."

He holds out his glass to toast to your win, and you clink yours against his, a bit spilling on the floor.

"So, what are you gonna do with the money you won?" he asks, setting his drink down on the table.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Maybe I'll treat myself to dinner tomorrow night."

You go to step closer to the table to set your drink down, but slip on the puddle you'd left, falling forward. Matt catches you against his chest, his arms falling around your waist to steady you.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you say, removing your hands from his chest once you regain your footing, but Matt's arms don't move.

"You're finally falling for me, huh," he says with that smirk. Your heart skips a beat. Or maybe several. Actually, it feels like it might burst right out of your chest. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks growing hotter by the second.

"I– um, I–" you stammer, unsure of what to say.

"How about instead of treating yourself to dinner tomorrow night, you let me treat you."

"But what about–" you pause as the realization hits you. You were the woman he had been talking about. "Oh." You feel the tips of your ears reddening.

Matt lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction.

Now that you think about it, it's been more than a few weeks since Matt has flirted with anyone here at Josie's. Women have approached him, as usual, but he hadn't left with any of them or even accepted any of their offers to buy him a drink. He was still charming, but that's just natural with him. At the time, you attributed it to him being busy, as you all were with work. Matt had a way of really locking in on work when there was a heavy caseload, so it didn't seem unusual then. You would all just stop in at Josie's for a quick drink before heading home.

You're pulled from your thoughts by Matt tugging you a little closer to him.

"So how about it?" he asks quietly once he has your attention again. "We can go to that little Italian place you like near the office?"

Have you, at some point, considered what it might be like to be with Matt? Admittedly, yes. He's a sweetheart of a guy, always kind and courteous. He's a fierce lawyer—you're constantly impressed by his ability to captivate a jury and spin a narrative. And he and Foggy are always looking out for the little guy, taking on clients that don't have much—or anything at all, sometimes—but need help, and so they do just that. But at the end of the day, you're friends, and he's also your boss.

Your heart is in your throat.

"Um, as friends?" you ask.

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Well, I was hoping it could be a date if you're comfortable with that."

You bite your lip. "I– I just don't know if I want to risk what we already have," you admit.

"Understandable," he says, and one of his hands comes up to rest on your cheek, the other remaining firmly on your waist. "But what if we could have so much more?"

Well, the joke's on you for trying to argue with a lawyer.

"You can think of it as a trial run if you want," he offers, his hand coming down to your jaw. "If it doesn't feel right to you, we can just go back to how things were."

It might not be that simple, you think, but maybe it's worth the risk, like he said. And besides, Matt is someone you love having in your life. If things didn't work out romantically after a date or two, you're sure you could still be friends.

"A trial run, then," you say with a small nod. Matt's smirk blossoms into a smile.

"Perfect," he whispers, his hand finding it's way back up to your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. Your eyes flutter closed.

And then they're shooting back open as Foggy's voice cuts across the room.

"Look at all this love in the room tonight!" The volume of his voice makes you wince, and Marci bats at his arm, scolding him for ruining the moment. Both you and Matt burst into laughter at the pair.

You finish off your drink before getting ready to head out with the others. Karen bids Evan a good night as she readies herself to leave with the rest of you, but not before she gets his number. You link your arm through hers as you move toward the exit, asking about her night. She gives little away in the short walk to the door, but promises to catch you up at work on Monday.

"You had an eventful night too, didn't you?" she says with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I won fifty bucks off of Foggy."

"Wait, what? I was talking about with Matt. I saw the two of you over by the table," she says, nudging you playfully.

"Oh, you saw that?" You wear a bashful smile.

"Yes, and I expect to hear about that on Monday too," she says with a laugh, and you agree.

The cool night air greets you as you exit the bar, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Foggy and Marci get a cab first, calling out their "goodnights" as they get in the car. Karen calls another cab over, and she offers it to you, but you insist she takes it as she lives further than you.

And now you're left here with Matt.

"I don't see anymore taxis," you tell him. "I can call one for you if you'd like?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine to walk," he says, tapping his cane against the pavement. Neither of you live far from Josie's. It's about a ten minute walk from you.

"I was going to walk too," you say.

"Then, can I walk you home?" he asks.

"How about I walk you home? You're not far out of the way."

He shakes his head. "I don't want you walking alone if you can avoid it. It's late."

"Fine," you say. Then, "thank you."

He smiles at the ground before taking hold of the crook of your arm. "Of course."

The two of you walk in silence for a moment before he speaks.

"You know, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night," he says.

A small smile makes its way onto your face. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he says. "Thank you for giving me a chance. I know you might think I'm some kind of... I don't know, playboy or something, but I'm– I'm serious about this—about you." Your cheeks burn hot at that.

"I don't think that about you," you say quietly.

"You don't?"

"No. Although, I do think you have an uncanny ability to charm pretty much any woman." He smiles again. "You're a flirt and a tease, but I wouldn't go as far as to call you a playboy." His smile falters a bit at that.

"I believe you, though," you tell him. "Admittedly, I'm a little hesitant to, but you've never given me a reason not to trust you."

"Then, I'll just have to keep proving that you can trust me."

You smile. "I'm looking forward to that."

The two of you walk together in silence for a bit.

"The moon is so bright tonight," you say as you look up at the sky.

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I can see it shining through the clouds, but there are too many to see any stars."

Matt sighs. "I'd give anything to see that one more time." Your heart constricts at that.

"I– I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says. "I like that you describe things like that to me. You do it more often than you might think. It feels like you want to share it with me, and I enjoy hearing how things look through your eyes. I remember what it was like, you know, seeing the night sky, all the stars up there—or at least what we could see from the city. When you tell me about it, it helps me keep those memories alive." You tear up just a little bit, smiling sadly.

"I'm glad I could do that for you."

A few moments pass, and you come up to your apartment building.

"This is me," you say with a sniffle, coming to a stop.

Matt turns to face you, bringing his hand up to cup your face once again.

"I take it back," he says softly.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"I take it back," he says again, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "As much as I wish I could see the sky again, I'd do anything to see you just once."

"Oh, Matt," you breathe, and a tear slips free. He brushes it away as he closes the gap between you, pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. And then he's pulling away, but your hand comes up to gently tug him back by his tie. His hands find their place on your hips as you pull him into another kiss, this one a bit deeper. One of his hands comes up to rest at the nape of your neck, and his glasses bump against your nose as he angles his head. The two of you break apart in a laugh, and his hand comes down to take hold of yours.

"I wasn't planning on kissing you tonight, just so you know."

"Oh, no?"

He shakes his head, a small grin on his face. "Nope."

"Well, I guess you can just try not to kiss me tomorrow night," you say with a small smirk.

"Oh, I don't think so," he says, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he leans in to press one last kiss to your lips.

"Until tomorrow," he says once he pulls away.

"Goodnight, Matt," you say as you take a step towards the stairs to your building.

"Goodnight" he says, finally releasing your hand.

He waits until he hears you get safely inside your apartment to start his walk to his own, a smile on his face the entire way home.

You're practically giddy as you ready yourself for bed. There's a good chance you won't be getting much sleep tonight, not with the anticipation of tomorrow night lingering.

Matt feels it too. Despite the late hour, he's wide awake, his heart thumping wildly as he recounts the past hour or so. As he lies in bed, he can't help but miss the way you felt in his arms, like the piece he didn't realize he was missing. Some would say it's too soon to tell, but to him, you already felt like home.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

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[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

I’m starting to think Frank Castle might be the heart of DDBA lol. I wrote about this before, but now that the “cops are using the Punisher logo” angle is becoming a major focus of the show, I’m wondering if Frank is the one who becomes Matt’s main support. My reasoning:

1) Even though Frank believes evil people need to die, he’s also not the kind of person who wants people to follow his lead. Especially police officers. Frank is someone who knows he’s the bad guy, but is okay with that title and doesn’t want people to look up to him.

2) Matt Murdock admitted that he believes in retribution and there was a lot of emphasis on him saying that “punishment” is the next best thing to achieving justice. He’s teetering close to becoming like Frank Castle, which is what Frank warned him about in DD season 2 (the one bad day quote).

So what I’m getting at is, Frank might end up being the one who pulls Matt out of his funk and convinces him to become Daredevil again. The people need someone they can look up to and it can NOT be the Punisher. It needs to be someone like Daredevil, someone who still believes in law and order and that people can redeem themselves. So Frank makes himself out to be the bad guy to Matt’s good guy in order to convince people to stop idolizing him.

If this ends up being the case, then it is absolutely hilarious that Matt lost his emotional support of Foggy Nelson and Karen Page, only to gain a new one in the form of fucking Frank Castle.

[spectres-fulcrum]

They’re going to parallel the fucking dinner date scene, aren’t they?

Bobby told Buck to be strong because everyone else is going to need him and there’s been all this rhetoric about Buck making things about himself when he’s showing his emotions so he’s not going to show his pain to anyone. He’ll be the pillar of support everyone else needs. Hug Athena and May, deal with Chim’s survivor’s grief, meal prep and cook bulk meals to be distributed out so Athena and May and Karen and Maddie and Ravi and Tommy don’t have to worry about cooking with this grief, etc etc. and his emotions are going to pile up but Bobby told him to be strong.

And finally Tommy’s going to be at his house. They’ll be in the kitchen. Buck will be working on his next batch of meals. Tommy will finally force the issue of how is Buck doing, and Buck will insist he’s fine. Because he has to be. Bobby told him he had to be. But Tommy saw. He knows.

He knows that Buck shattered into a million pieces in that hallway. And he’ll just say into the tense air, “Evan, your dad is dead.” As a mirror for him saying Buck’s father was alive after the heart attack.

And Buck falters, drops whatever he’s holding. And Tommy will assure him, he doesn’t expect Evan to be okay, much less fine. He just wants Evan’s honesty. And Evan breaks and falls into his arms and sobs and says he’s dead over and over and Tommy can provide little comfort but his arms around Buck.

Because his dad is dead. And nothing will ever be the same. But curled up together on the kitchen tile, something begins again.

(Okay this got fanficy but you get my point)

[elihermit]

let’s ruin the friendship

— part one

pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley x fem!reader

summary: 118 throws a party for their station. You started working there 3 months ago and already feel like a part of the family. Buck caught feelings for you, but still need to confess them. How will the weekend end?

word count: 1,5k

author’s note: i’m actually obsessed with this fic🧘🏻‍♀️ hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it

p.s. i see all your requests, i’m in the process of writing them🫧

Malibu. You're sitting by the ocean and looking at the sky. You take a deep breath and feel your lungs fill with sea air, this real sea smell. The wind blows your hair, the warm sand tickles your toes and your head is free of thoughts.

118 decided to make a party for your station and you rented a house in Malibu on the Pacific Ocean. Three days of rest and fun with friends, what could be better?

And you needed it. You've been working at 118 for three months now and it's really a dream job. But because you're still new to this: it's hard, demanding and emotional at times. So getting out of this for a couple of days sounded very tempting.

The whole 118 team received you very warmly. Bobby is the best captain you could ask for. He literally became your second dad, mentor and wise friend. He taught you to take any difficulty as a valuable lesson that will lead you to a better version of yourself. Hen, Chimney and Eddie have become a resource of light. You never thought that colleagues at work could become family, but they showed you this. They are always happy to see you in their homes, put a smile on your face every shift and support you when something gets too much.

And Buck. You chuckled and admitted that you fell for him. You're not usually the type to get attached to people quickly. Honestly, you don't even know if you ever really loved. And it was Evan who made you feel things you'd never felt before. Butterflies in your stomach, counting the minutes before your shift starts to see him, “accidental” touches, stolen glances and a blush on your cheeks when he compliments you.

You looked up at the sky once more, where the stars were shining. Your dress was covered in sand, but you didn't care, because it was those moments that gave you a sense of carelessness. You were the very first to arrive at the house that you all rented and realized that this was a great opportunity to be alone with yourself. It was just you and the ocean.

“You're early as always.” — of course it was Buck. You chuckled to yourself and weren't even surprised that it was him. It's like he always appears when you think about him.

“Yeah, I didn't really calculate the time right and got here without traffic jams.”

You felt Buck sit down next to you on the sand and you both looked out into the boundless ocean.

“Aren't you afraid to get your pants dirty?”

“I wouldn't have become a firefighter if I was afraid of that. Plus, I'm willing to get my pants dirty if it means sitting in peace and quiet next to you.”

The next day went better than you imagined. You were all swimming, barbecuing, making cocktails, chatting and laughing a lot. Adults, but behaved like children, and this is exactly what everyone needed — to forget about adult responsibilities for a while and give themselves up to impulsive desires.

The day was nearing sunset and you split up. Men were playing volleyball, women were sitting by the pool with glasses of wine.

“If such a weekend becomes a tradition at your station, then I will have to change my place of work.” — Karen said and sipped her wine.

“Oh honey, we don’t have to. We are the wives of firefighters, we will always have the privilege for such parties.” — Athena said, doing a little dance.

Everyone laughed and agreed with this statement. You adored the women around you: strong, beautiful, and knowing how to have fun, even working such hard jobs.

“So (Y/N), any plans on making this official?” — Hen raised her eyebrows, pointing at you.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on girl, we all see how you and Buck literally devour each other with eyes.”

“We’re just friends.”

You close your eyes, pull on your sunglasses and lie down on a beach chair. You do everything so that no one sees how your cheeks started to turn red.

“Yeah, I'm sure that friends dance in each other's arms, go to places for couples in the evenings and make local jokes that no one else understands.” — Maddie came back to the pool and put another cocktail in front of you. “It’s from Buck by the way, he said he made it just how you like it.” — she highlighted the last words and looked at you meaningfully before laughing.

“Okay you all, I don't recall using the services of a matchmaker, so I’m going to swim.” — you said, standing from your beach chair. “Anyone wants to go with me?”

“Hell yeah.”

You hear Buck's voice behind you and turn to him.

“Where did you come from?”

“I was on my way to grab some water, but swimming sounds more tempting.”

You took a towel and you went for a swim together.

“Okay, guys, I'm taking bets on whether they kiss now or not.” — Hen had a feeling that after this swim there will be one more couple on their station.

You and Evan came to the ocean and stopped at the shore. You have a feeling of deja vu, because exactly 24 hours ago you were sitting in the same place. The sun was almost below the horizon, it was getting darker and you liked it, there was always something magical about swimming at night.

“I would very much appreciate it if you stayed by my side, because rescuing you wasn’t on my bucket list today.”

“Then you’ll have to catch me, Buckley.”

You didn't wait a second and ran into the water. The warm water caressed your body, the sounds of the waves stupefied your head, the lowering sun left tempting reflections on your body.

You began to swim slowly and enjoy how the water relaxes your muscles and the taste of salt envelops your lips. In a second you were in strong hands.

“Got ya.” — Buck's warm breath was on your ear and reflexively you wrapped your legs around his torso.

“I don't think you gave me a chance to break away from you.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to.”

“How is it fair then?”

“It’s not, but it’s also unfair how you try to slide away from me every time.”

You looked into Evan's eyes and froze. You never tried to run away from him, you just didn't know if your feelings were mutual. And confessing your feelings is like going through fire for you, even though you do it almost every day. And it's still dangerous and scary.

His lips were two centimeters from yours and you fought with every part of your body not to succumb to temptation.

“I was just waiting for you to stop me from running away.”

“Let’s ruin the friendship.”

And he kissed you. A thousand fireworks exploded in your chest and your heart started pounding faster. You ran your hands through his hair, and he pulled you closer to him. You have to say that there was nothing innocent about that kiss. But it wasn't lust either. It was sensual, intimate, mixed with a long desire to be with each other.

You parted your lips and let his tongue enter inside, dancing with your tongue in unison. Buck put his hands on your hips and squeezed them, a soft moan escaped from your lips. Desire and need have awakened in the bottom of your stomach.

“I don’t think we need to give such a performance to our friends.” — even though you didn’t care right now, you knew it would be quite embarrassing after.

“You’re probably right, but I've been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

“You’re definitely a keeper.”

“I can’t keep denying every minute I think of you. I need to call you mine.”

“Claim me yours.”

And just like that, he kissed you again. This time gently and with all the love he had. You could both feel the invisible strings that intertwine your hearts and lives.

The feelings that flared up no longer frightened, but forced him to look into the future without doubt. Evan has been burned in a relationship so many times, but now he sees clearly — life without you is a thousand times more destructive.

You've been imagining events for so long that could lead to the beginning of your relationship, and none of them were the way you're experiencing now. You're with Buck in the ocean, your bodies are pressed against each other and you can't break the kiss because you can't get enough.

“Fuck, you’re all I ever dreamed of.” — Buck broke the kiss and said it into your lips.

You were walking back to the house and holding hands. What's the point of hiding that you're a couple now if everyone's been waiting for this?

You and Buck walked past the pool giggling and went into the house to change your clothes and most likely it won't end there.

“Okay, ladies, each of you now owns me 10 dollars.” — sipping from her glass, Hen knew she would win this bet.

Let me know if you want part 2 🫧

[louferrignojrofficial]

It’s weird to say that I (a Hispanic gay guy) connect more with Lou/Tommy than with Eddie/Ryan??Like idk people in the fandom make it so it’s a crime to connect with one over the other. But the way Lou has been treated by his dad and his strength to fight the mold, and abuse to become someone better is inspiring. There’s a clip of Tracie(Karen Wilson) saying how Lou is big but sweet. Makes me think of the interview you mention how Lou senior used his size to intimate his family. Ryan seems to have a lot of unlearning of toxic mindset compared to Lou. The way Ryan spoke about women in that one podcast was so weird, and his push for religion. It makes me think of so many people who either use the “women’s role” to keep them down and then use religion catholic/christian to excuse actions. Then as well people in the fandom excusing Eddie’s behavior because that’s how he grew up etc.

Eddie is a grown man, with a son he needs therapy. Expressing emotions is okay, what isn’t okay is hurting others while blaming them. Like Eddie’s arc in Texas of not being his parents was amazing to see, like finally they will address his ways of deflecting. Instead we get another instance of Eddie blaming everyone around him without accountability.

i don’t think this is weird at all! who says we need to only relate to people who look like us.

eddie could have had so much better stories and things that show off his development way better and instead we’ve got multiple scenes that span seasons, which show he’s not growing as a person or learning and it’s just sad.

and then ryan. well. i don’t know how we got from ryan wanting to show healthy male friendships between queer and straight men… to this. like what is healthy or supportive about this. it’s just straight up manipulative and weird.

[bivht]

Astrology Observations

tw: ED

A lot of people in my life with chiron-saturn hard aspects have one parent emotionally (or physically) absent and the other emotionally manipulative. Also common is intergenerational trauma/childhood trauma. This individual has difficulties relying on people for support. It sucks bc it’s quite a common aspect. I’d estimate roughly 25% of my class has this

Chiron-saturn hard aspects also make me think of someone with a wounded sense of restriction and discipline. In extreme cases it can lead to mental health conditions like eating disorders I.e. Karen carpenter with Saturn square Chiron. Eugenia cooney with Saturn opposite Chiron. Tbh this is more of an assumption, both individuals have mars square Saturn which could also be a factor

mars square Saturn is where the ability to feel motivated, take action, and progress is restricted by Saturn. And the square aspect makes it sooo difficult to overcome, it’s locked in place like a safe. Their sense of discipline is also kinda f’ed up. Potential to be self-punishers.

pisces moon with hard aspects to pluto can have emotionally manipulative mother in which the child believes their mother is their best friend but it’s really just an unstable relationship with lack of any emotional boundaries :/

moon-pluto/moon-saturn hard aspects is having at least one traumatic event relating to their mother by age 16

Venus-Chiron/chiron in the 7h can have a fear of people leaving them for someone better

Melpomene (18) conjunct pluto is so frickin’ powerful when they delve into tragic art such as sad songs/dance/writing. Melpomene is the muse of tragedy. Even if it’s a really happy or cute person, they’ll catch you off guard with their suitability in tragic roles

This is obvious but fatme (866) can have weight struggles

pisces moon is asking your mum for privacy and she says “I’m your MOTHER, I’ve seen you naked since you were a baby!”

virgo mercury is the definition of “oh no… anyway”

[belle-g34]

I want karen and heather to meet lol. both of them emptied the clip

matthew murdock supports women’s rights to murder assholes in cold blood

[xtra7s]

Can I request Regina x Reader where she catches Regina cheating (like in the movie) and reader takes her back angst to fluff please

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡'𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭

Pairing: Regina George x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Regina gets caught cheating on her girlfriend.

Content: angst, cheating, stuff idk help

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: not proofread, the gif is from my own video

masterlist

Regina George, the queen bee of North Shore High, ruled with an iron fist and a cunning smile. She was a force to be reckoned with, her every move calculated and precise. Just like her perfectly styled hair and impeccable wardrobe, her dominance over the student body was effortless. They were all mere pawns in her game, following her lead blindly as she basked in their adoration like a true monarch. To them, she was untouchable, untamable, and utterly irresistible.

And then there was her girlfriend. Y/N YL/N was a star on the girls' basketball team, effortlessly gliding across the court with precision and grace. Unlike Regina, who exuded confidence and charisma, Y/N was quieter and more reserved, but no less powerful in her own right. Her kindhearted nature radiated from her every action, always quick to support and uplift those around her. In contrast to Regina's intense drive for success, Y/N had a calming presence that seemed to melt away any stress or tension. Together, they were the perfect balance of fire and water, challenging and complementing each other in all the best ways.

Breathless from running, Y/N burst into the school courtyard where Karen and Gretchen were lounging on a bench. "Hey, have you guys seen Regina?" she huffed out, her words punctuated by gasps for air. Her eyes frantically scanned the area as she explained, "I have a bus to catch and I wanted to say goodbye to her." Gretchen's face looked like it was about to explode while Karen simply tilted her head in curious confusion. Y/N's heart raced as she waited for their response, knowing that time was ticking away before she had to leave.

"Pretty sure she was heading towards the janit-" Karen began to explain, but her voice was cut short as Gretchen abruptly slapped her in the stomach, halting her explanation. Confusion and annoyance knitted across Karen's features as she stumbled back a step. "But I saw her heading towards-" she started to protest, but Gretchen's urgent grip on her hand pulled her away from Y/N before she could finish. The sound of their hurried footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, echoing off the cold walls and sending shivers down Y/N's spine.

A knot of unease tightened in Y/N's stomach as she hurried down the hallway toward the janitor's closet. Her footsteps echoed against the tiled floor, each step a reminder of her mounting anxiety. She reached the door and knocked, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. "Just a sec!" came Regina's voice from inside. Y/N took a deep breath before yanking open the door, revealing Regina and Shane Oman hastily throwing on clothes. The scent of sweat and perfume hung heavy in the air, mixing with the musty smell of cleaning supplies that filled the cramped closet. Y/N's jaw clenched as she realized what was happening, her bad feeling becoming a sickening certainty.

With pained expression etched across her features, Y/N's voice trembled as she spoke. "Just wanted to say bye before my away game. We're done." Her tears fell freely as she turned away and hurried down the hallway, the sound of her choking back sobs echoed off the walls. The pain in her heart was palpable, like a weight dragging her down with each step she took.

She returned to the bus, clumsily wiping away her tears with strokes of her sleeve. She made her way down the narrow aisle and took a seat at the back. The warmth of the sun seeping through the windows provided a comforting embrace as she tried to compose herself. Her gaze fell upon the passing scenery, but her thoughts were consumed by the emotions that had overtaken her just moments ago.

____

The team rallied and emerged victorious in their away game, fueled by Y/N's unexplainable surge of anger and aggression on the field. Despite feeling sluggish and exhausted for the remainder of the trip, she channeled her energy into dominating the game. While her teammates celebrated their win, Y/N retreated to rest and recharge, opting for sleep instead of socializing. The weight of her uncharacteristic outburst lingered, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction of helping lead her team to victory.

With a heavy sigh, she stepped off the bus and pulled her headphones down from her head. She took a moment to steel herself before facing the looming school building in front of her, the one place she never wanted to return to. As she grabbed her duffle bag from under the bus, she turned towards the parking lot and caught sight of Regina leaning against her Jeep, her striking features drawn into a worried frown as she scanned the crowd of students getting off the bus. The sun beat down on them, casting a golden glow over the scene. Y/N noticed the way Regina's blonde hair glinted in the light, like spun gold. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of her former girlfriend, but then she remembered why she had left this place and pushed those thoughts away.

With determination in her stride, Y/N headed towards Regina, ready to face whatever came next.

"What the hell are you doing here, Regina?" Y/N's voice cut through the tense air like a blade, her words dripping with ice as she faced Regina.

Her sharp gaze raked over Regina's body, noting the uncharacteristically subdued attire of the usually showy girl. The tension between them was palpable, crackling like electricity in the air.

The gentle lilt of Regina's voice pierces the tense silence between them. She wears a small, sad smile on her face as she leans against the car door, holding it open for Y/N. "I'm here to drive you home," she says softly, coaxing Y/N to let her in. "Come on, just get in Y/N." She stands with her arms crossed, but Y/N stands with her arms crossed, refusing to budge. Her eyes narrow and she scoffs, turning sharply and striding away from Regina's outstretched hand. The moon casts a cool glow over the scene, highlighting the tension and heartache hanging heavy in the air.

Regina catches up to Y/N, quickly grabbing her hand and tugging her back towards her. "Please just stop being dramatic. Can we please talk? I'm pretty sure I owe you a really embarrassing apology that totally won't make me die inside." Regina speaks softly, tilting her head at Y/N while she stares at the ground. Y/N cracks a small smile, turning it into a straight face as she walks towards Regina's Jeep, sliding into the passenger seat and dropping her bag on the ground of the car.

As soon as Y/N stepped into the passenger seat of Regina's Jeep, she slammed the door shut with a loud thud. She knew that Regina hated when she did that, but it was a small act of rebellion against the girl who had caused her so much pain.

Regina let out a sigh as she climbed into the driver's seat, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot. The two girls sat in tense silence for a few minutes before Regina finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know I messed up and hurt you. I regret it every day."

Y/N remained silent for a moment, trying to hold back tears that threatened to spill over at Regina's words. She couldn't deny that she still had feelings for her ex-girlfriend, but she was also angry at her for breaking her heart.

"Why did you do it?" Y/N asked, her voice cracking with emotion.

Regina took a deep breath before answering. "I don't have an excuse, Y/N. I was selfish and so fucking stupid."

"So you just threw our relationship away like it meant nothing?" Y/N spat out bitterly.

"No," Regina said firmly, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "It meant everything to me. But my insecurities got in the way and I made a huge mistake."

Y/N sighed heavily, feeling conflicted about what to do or say next. Part of her wanted to forgive Regina and give their relationship another chance, but another part of her was afraid of getting hurt again.

"I don't know if I can ever trust you again," Y/N admitted quietly.

"I understand," Regina replied sadly. "But please give me another chance to make things right. I promise to be honest with you from now on."

Regina reaches across the center console, holding her hand out for Y/N to take while she keeps her focus on driving, ignoring the tears escaping her eyes. Y/N hesitantly takes it, her hand fitting perfectly in Regina's. Regina runs her thumb over the top of Y/N's hand, parking in the driveway of her own house.

Regina parked in the driveway of her house, still holding onto Y/N's hand tightly. They both sat in the car for a few moments, neither one speaking as they collected their thoughts.

Finally, Y/N turned to look at Regina, her eyes red from tears that she had been holding back. "I want to forgive you," she said softly. "But it's going to take time."

"I understand," Regina replied, squeezing Y/N's hand gently. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."

Y/N nodded and slowly let go of Regina's hand, unbuckling her seatbelt and reaching for her bag on the floor of the car. As she opened the door to get out, Regina quickly got out as well and walked around to open Y/N's door for her.

"Thank you," Y/N said quietly as she got out of the car. Regina nodded and they both walked towards the front door of the house. "Do you want something to drink?" Regina asked as they entered the living room. "Water is fine," Y/N replied, taking a seat on the couch.

Regina went into the kitchen and returned with two glasses of water. She handed one to Y/N before taking a seat next to her on the couch.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Regina spoke up again. "I know I hurt you deeply and I can't take back what I did."

Y/N sighed and took a sip of her water. "I just don't understand why you did it."

"I was scared," Regina admitted quietly. "Scared that I wasn't good enough for you or that you would realize that and leave me, I guess just I made it happen quicker."

Y/N nodded, looking up at Regina. "Can I hug you..?" Regina asked softly, Y/N nodding in return and melting into the touch of Regina.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding onto each other. "I'm so sorry," Regina whispered into Y/N's hair. "I know sorry doesn't make it right, but I never want to lose you."

Y/N pulled away slightly to look at Regina. "I want to forgive you," she said with tears in her eyes. "But I don't know if I can trust you again."

Regina nodded, understanding Y/N's hesitation. "I will do whatever it takes to earn back your trust." She wiped away a tear from Y/N's cheek before leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Y/N closed her eyes and leaned into the touch, feeling a familiar warmth spread through her body at the simple gesture.

"Let's take things slow," Y/N said, opening her eyes to look at Regina once again. "I need time to process everything."

Regina nodded again and took a deep breath. "Of course," she said, giving Y/N a small smile.

After a while, Y/N and Regina both started to feel more at ease with each other. They talked about their days, catching up on the things they had missed in each other's lives. Y/N found herself starting to relax on Regina's lap, feeling comforted by her presence.

"Do you want to watch something?" Regina asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Y/N nodded and Regina reached over to grab the remote. She turned on the TV and scrolled through the channels until she found a show they both enjoyed. As they settled into watching the show, Y/N couldn't help but lean into Regina's embrace even more.

Regina placed a gentle kiss on Y/N's temple as she wrapped her arms around her waist. "I missed this," she whispered.

Y/N felt her heart flutter at Regina's words and couldn't help but snuggle closer to her. "Me too," she replied, feeling tears prick in her eyes.

They stayed like that for the rest of the evening, watching their show and enjoying each other's company. It wasn't until it was almost midnight that Y/N realized how late it was getting.

"I should probably head home," Y/N said reluctantly, not wanting to leave Regina's side.

Regina nodded understandingly but didn't move from her spot on the couch. "Can I see you again soon?" she asked softly.

Y/N smiled and leaned in for a kiss. It was short but filled with all the love and longing they both felt for each other. "Of course," she whispered against Regina's lips before pulling away slightly.

"I'll walk you out," Regina said as they got up from the couch.

As they walked towards the door, Y/N turned around to face Regina one last time before leaving. "Thank you for tonight," she said sincerely.

"Thank you for giving me another chance," Regina replied with a smile before they shared one last kiss.

[eggwriting]

Kevin McCormick, how to not mischaracterize him:

this is a rant about my favorite background character and I first want to start it with my first complaint; PLEASE STOP MAKING KEVIN AN ABSENT OLDER BROTHER WHO HATES HIS FAMILY AND RUNS AWAY WHILE LETTING HIS SIBLINGS DIE.

Look I get it, kevin has like 6 scenes in the entire 26 seasons of sp while karen has a centric episode and vurnble scenes that make you get to know her better therefore making her easier to characterize than kevin+ kevin hardly interacts with kenny. But here I am to tell you that making him absent is way more of a mischaracterization than making him be there with his siblings but not interact as much.

"But egg, when kevin was fighting with his dad, Carol said that they were both drunk pices of shit while holding a crying karen!!" Kenny also gets high all the time and has shown to have an addiction to it. Sure, kenny as a character has never shown to be violent like kevin has but it is implied that he also has beaten his parents as mystyrion.

"But Kenny was doing it so he could protect his siblings!" Guys, I'll hold your hand when I say this; kevin has shown multiple times that he cares a LOT for his siblings I want to point out:

notice how when Stuart starts screaming at karen for wanting ice cream Kevin is the first one who gets immediately angery but then shows empathy and worriedness when kenny runs after her

Alsooo Kevin is the one who when they put in the orphanage is looking around all worried and suspicious

I think Kevin truly does care about his siblings but he has a hard time expressing it so instead he tries his best to protect them even if that means he'll look like a 'bad' guy in front of his siblings.

If you still are struggling with Kevin's character a more easy guide is to think of it as kenny if he had anger issues. Kenny and Kevin have a LOT of similar traits (I.e when Stuart and Carol start fighting they both start laughing, they both love food, thay both are willing to hurt other ppl for their siblings etc) but kevin is more short tempered which tbh is to be expected; he is a teenager living in a house where screaming and fighting is normal, a house where he can't be listened without screaming (mind you, heard and listened are two VERY different things). He is in a part of his life when he is brimming with emotions and to add onto that he has one-if not, the shittiest home situations in south park.

this audio I'm going to link is how i see kevin's character has been hinted to be: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DCPq8AkNBR6/?igsh=dmNtaGl6dm8wcmVh

AWS here are some of my hc for my baby;

Okay VERY far fetched hc but; when Kevin gets mad his voice deepens and it makes him sound more intimidating so what if a reason Kenny deepens his voice when he is mystiorion is bc he wants to sound more intimate like his big brother.

he really likes arts bc in the episode where they go to the circus while everyone else was getting bored Kevin looked genuinely entertained and when mop was performing everyone else looked terrified ecxept kevin who was just enjoying his time and supporting his brother's dreams.

Another farfetched hc; I think that it's more likely for Kevin to have smth sort of the same curse as kenny bc he seems very Pernoid and scared most of the time same like kenny.

he has absolutly no sense of fashion and frankly...he dosent care, hell wear what the heck is in front of him as long as it keeps him warm. (smth that probably runs in his blood bc tell me why both kenny and kevin looked like they just came out of a trash can in post covid)

He has veryy thick brows bc in the show even though e doesnt talk a lot (like kenny) we understand what he is feeling cuz his brows are constantly showing. which leads me to the next point...

he has a hard time hiding emotion. he is so expressionante- when he gets angry he clutches his fists and looks at the ground, his brows frown hard and he grints his teeth (and how i mentioned earlier that his voice gets deeper ). when he is worried it seems like all the mountness layers and threatning words melt down and so does his face. he looks way younger and he hides away behind the other kids (as seen in the scene where that one kid was getting doctor peppered in the orphange episode)

if you read this thank you so so much and i really hope one day there will be more fics where kevin is a good brother who works through his issues with the help of his siblings and gets as much attention as karen.

with love, egg.